Last night, Dirk and I went for a walk in the woods near my house. It was just at dusk, but it was so cloudy that it seemed later, and there was fog everywhere. Between the trees, it seemed to glow, as well as the path that led to the pavilion we were standing under. I stood there, leaning against Dirk, watching the fog, until it seemed to attain the quality of a black and white negative. Trees white against a black background. I started getting nervous, and looked up at Dirk to gain some reassurance. His face was completely in shadow, except for parts that seemed to be outlined in a glowing light. He kept asking me what was wrong, but the words were hazy and indistinct. They seemed to be issuing from somewhere inside my head, instead of his mouth. It was all I could do to keep myself from screaming. I insisted we leave the woods.
I've been exhausted all day. Roachboy's still reading this journal. I have no idea why.
I've avoided doing this ‘til this point, but I'm honestly thinking of putting up a link page, for other journals I read. Honestly, I'm getting tired of the convolutions necessary to get to some of the journals I read, especially the ones who decided not to re-join the Poison Ivy Webring. So, expect it up whenever I get my ass in gear.
The diet thing sucks. I'm hating every minute of it, and my mother's being a complete cunt about the whole deal. When she gets old, I'm tying her in the woods and leaving her for the wolves. Fuck the nursing home, fuck living with me. The minute she can't live independently, she dies.
That's mean. "Honor thy father and mother." This diet thing is making me grouchy, and so is the bitch's attitude. So maybe I'll just use a stun gun on her repeatedly.
I'm starting to reconsider whether or not the bug bites are worth it. I've been scratching all day. Everywhere.
I called Dirk up at Charlie's. Charlie was in the midst of going completely ballistic. I could hear him yelling at the top of his lungs. I found out later that his wife started packing up her stuff and hit him a couple times, because she got sick of his bitching. See, he usually allows the house to become a complete shithole before he bothers to bring up the fact that it's messy. Then, he completely freaks. His wife is an incredibly nice woman, but she's a bit lazy. I don't think her attitude is helped much by his complete sexism and the fact that they have two kids already, though they've only been married a year and a half.
Dirk was trying to calm him down, but to no avail. He just kept screaming about the fact that his wife sits on her ass three days a week. Anyway, Dirk decided to get off the phone in a hurry.
We're supposed to hang out with Katie Thursday night, assuming she remembers. And we're supposed to see Katie A-- tomorrow night.
On our way home, this girl Cat called out to us. I've known Cat since she was a pudgy 6-year-old, and I was nine. She's theoretically a punk now, but I'm not holding my breath. Whatever she may choose to think of herself as, she was asking Dirk and I if we were going to some kind of benefit. When I questioned her, she said she'd e-mail me about it. Great.
I think it's some kind of plot that Krisco's masterminding. None of the punks here give us the time of day, so why should they give a shit if we go to some stupid benefit or not? Plot. Ambush. We're gonna get torn up. I'd be interested to hear what Cat has to say, though. How she explains the fact that we've been ostracized up to this point.
I am still trying very hard no to get mad so much. It's not easy, and sometimes I seriously just want to claw out Dirk's eyes. I'm still trying, though. Sometimes the anger transforms into tears.